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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23018926">Behind Closed Doors (part 2)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_Cade/pseuds/Agent_Cade'>Agent_Cade</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stargate Atlantis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Feels, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, tears before bedtime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:53:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,098</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23018926</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_Cade/pseuds/Agent_Cade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn’t matter that you are surrounded every day by people who love you. And they do. Military and civilian alike, everyone has a smile, a nod, and a nice word for you. They come to you with their problems, professional and personal, and you help them, you sympathise, you guide, and you check in. You support them and hold them together when they threaten to fall apart.<br/>And then you go back to the emptiness of your quarters and fall apart, alone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evan Lorne/Radek Zelenka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Behind Closed Doors (part 2)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay, so part 1 WAS a stand-alone, buuuut... I couldn't just leave them like that, could I?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You don’t hate Atlantis.</p>
<p>Of course you don’t, how could you? The things you’ve seen, the things you’ve done, the whole expedition has been the most rewarding, if challenging, experience of your life. Greater military men than you have worked their way up the same ladder without ever knowing the thrill of fighting aliens, flying Ancient spaceships, working with some of the most amazing people in the universe. You are damned lucky that the stars aligned such to allow you this awesome opportunity. You know you should be on your knees in gratitude and going to bed every night with a smile on your face.</p>
<p>But there is <em>something</em> you hate. And it is so inextricably linked to the ancient city, that it is almost easier to blame Atlantis herself.</p>
<p>You hate the isolation.</p>
<p>It doesn’t matter that you are surrounded every day by people who love you. And they do. Military and civilian alike, everyone has a smile, a nod, and a nice word for you. They come to you with their problems, professional and personal, and you help them, you sympathise, you guide, and you check in. You support them and hold them together when they threaten to fall apart.</p>
<p>And then you go back to the emptiness of your quarters and fall apart, alone.</p>
<p>Even on your rest days you are Major Lorne, and you would give anything to go home and just be Evan again for a night. To have just a few hours when you don’t have to be strong. You’re so damned jealous of the people around you who get to be weak.</p>
<p>The marine sitting opposite you is actively fighting back tears as you try to console him, to explain to him that the colleague he accidentally shot in an incident off-world today, was going to be fine. Friendly fire happens. No one is going to hold anything against him, he will have to attend a safety refresher session after a week of administrative leave and a couple of counselling sessions. You don’t tell him how much worse it could have been, even though that is the nightmare scenario you are trying not to obsess over. You don’t tell him how relieved you are to not have to write that letter back to Earth. You check with him that he has someone he can talk to and remind him that your door is always open. He doesn’t look okay, but he looks better than he did when he’d staggered in here, shaking and running his hands through his hair looking besides himself with fear. He won’t find out quite how close he is to being sent back to Earth, unless he makes another mistake. You look at him with empathetic eyes and try to gauge, realistically, how likely that is, because you can normally tell with a pretty high degree of accuracy. He takes a big shuddering sigh and thanks you. And you know he is going to head back to the mess, or the rec room and be surrounded by friends who will hug him and tell him everything is going to be okay, and they will all indulge in honest human interaction.</p>
<p>Must be real nice.</p>
<p>The closest thing you have to human interaction these days is fucking Radek. Casual rough sex that equates to little more than a band-aid on a stab wound. But his skin under your hands, the feel of his heartbeat, for a brief moment they can remind you that you aren’t alone. Maybe that’s why there are days when it feels like Radek is the only one who isn’t a ghost or a shadow; he’s the only one you can truly touch.</p>
<p>But it’s not enough, is it? It’s only a taste of what it would be like to exist alongside another human being, to be more than an NPC in your own life. And each time you go to him, the effect is a little less; like a painkiller you are slowly developing a tolerance to.</p>
<p>The oppressive emptiness of your office is crushing, and you summon the energy to get up, maybe you can find someone to talk to out there, a distraction. But then a notification on the computer screen indicates an email with the little red exclamation mark. The emails with little red exclamation marks are rarely good news and you open it with a grimace. Dr Keller has been polite enough to copy you in to a message to Colonel Sheppard, regarding the results of an unannounced drugs test that a random half of the military contingent were obligated to participate in yesterday. A quick assessment of the attached spreadsheet and you surmise with chagrin that Atlantis has a cocaine problem. You quickly turn the computer off – this is a problem for tomorrow. And it will be <em>your</em> problem; Colonel Sheppard is far too busy to deal with the personnel side of things. Disciplinary procedures that will form the best part of the next fortnight, will be entirely down to you. The same conversation repeated eight times; records recited, and bargains struck. It all took so much emotional energy, but you always manage.</p>
<p>Suddenly, the thought of heading out into the general population with a smile on your face makes your stomach churn. All you want is to curl up in the arms of another human being and take a break from being strong. There are two spare pillows in the drawer under the bed; you know from experience that they can be arranged to replicate the shape of a person. But you are sick of being the shoulder everybody else cries on and having to make do with foam and cotton for your own emotional needs. You need the heat of something real. And there’s only one place you can go to for that.</p>
<p>You know his schedule off by heart, but then you know all the senior staff’s schedules, it’s just one of the many details you have to have to hand in order to carry out your duties. He is due to finish his shift in the next forty-five minutes – barring any dramas in the labs. You lock up your office and start heading towards his, not even particularly enthused by the thought of it.</p>
<p>Stop. </p>
<p>This isn’t right. This isn’t going to achieve anything.</p>
<p>With a shaking hand you tap your earpiece.</p>
<p>“Zelenka,” the radio recognises the command, “when your shift is over, I need to see you in my quarters.”</p>
<p>There is a pause and it is just long enough for you to decide you’ve made a mistake.</p>
<p>“I can be there in an hour.” His voice is steady, calm, professional.</p>
<p>You take a breath you didn’t realise you needed.</p>
<p>“Affirmative,” you tap the earpiece again, breaking the connection. Why is it you feel more of a rush now? Why does it feel different to have him come to you, rather than the other way around? Your fingers start to itch for the feel of him. </p>
<p>Why Radek? It wasn’t like you’d set out to have him, you couldn’t even exactly recall how it was the two of you had even come to this arrangement. There had been a misunderstanding and you’d both gone along with it. To this day you have no idea how much he actually wants you; maybe he is experiencing the same tragic disconnect and just needs to feel something, or maybe he sees, really <em>sees</em>, how much you need it, and takes pity on you. What if he feels he owes it to you?</p>
<p>Still, it has reached the point where you can’t imagine doing this with anyone else.</p>
<p>You walk slowly back to your quarters, there’s no rush. People greet you in the corridors and you smile at them. A couple of marines stop you to ask about the condition of the wounded soldier and you reassure them that he is recovering in the infirmary, making the most of having the medical team fussing over him. You all laugh, and they agree that sounds just like Private Howell, probably trying to score a bed bath from one of the nurses, or even Keller herself. The smile on your face fits perfectly, and you know it’s convincing enough, because no one is paying that much attention. They are too busy with their own thoughts and feelings to even consider that <em>their</em> major, the one they can talk to about anything, might be trying to guess whether or not their names had little ticks next to them on the drug test report. You wave them off and continue on your way, leaving the smile on your face because it’s easier than having to put it back up again if you suddenly bump into anyone else.</p>
<p>You only let it drop once you are safely inside the cold open space of your room. You know that you are fortunate to have such spacious personal quarters; most of the military personnel have tiny little dorms and one shared bathroom per corridor. One of the perks of being a senior officer. </p>
<p>You take a shower and it’s more to kill time than to clean yourself. You’re counting down the minutes like there’s nothing in the world you want more than to be inside him. And this time it’s going to be different. You’re already hard just thinking about it, and it takes conscious effort to keep your hands away from yourself. But it’s not long now.</p>
<p>You shut off the shower and towel yourself dry, wrapping the towel around your waist rather than bothering with clothes; you don’t want to waste time taking them off again.</p>
<p>There is a soft knock on the door, accompanied by his voice:</p>
<p>“Major?” He’s early.</p>
<p>“It’s open,” you reply, crossing the room towards the doors as they glide open.</p>
<p>His surprise at seeing you in just a towel, coupled with the tablet he’s clutching, tells you he didn’t know for certain what you wanted him for. The doors slide shut behind him and you press him up against them, one hand on rough stubble as your lips find his, and you hear the thump of his tablet hitting the floor. He is so pliant, and you’ve been aware for a while now that you could probably get away with doing anything to him. Does he enjoy being submissive? Or is he simply afraid to express his own desires? You grind your hips into his and feel the towel start to come loose. The two of you have never been naked together, and right now that seems like an oversight desperate to be corrected. You pull away, meaning to strip him of his clothing, but he is so well trained by now that he starts to turn around to face the wall, presenting himself for what he thinks you want.</p>
<p>“No,” you breath, holding him by the arm, turning him back to face you. You kiss him again, but this time slide your hands up inside his t-shirt, interrupting the kiss only to pull the garment off over his head, careful of his glasses. You briefly catch his eyes and note the slight confusion there. You’ve broken the routine, and now you know exactly what it is that you want. No more shameful dirty fucking in a cramped dark office. You want something real.</p>
<p>Breathing heavily, you take his hand and pull him towards the bed. The towel falls away completely and his gaze scans you all the way down and back up. </p>
<p>Standing at the foot of the bed, you use both hands to undo his pants, holding his eye the whole time. He kicks his shoes off, but you’ve already got a hand inside his pants before he can start shuffling out of them, and he takes a shuddering breath, eyelids fluttering closed as you squeeze gently. He sways for a moment and suddenly you have to know what he tastes like. You let the hand not on his cock stroke a path down his chest and abdomen until it rests on his hip, then you lower yourself to your knees. His hands are motionless at his sides as you finish undressing him and guide his erection into your mouth, gently sucking on the head as your fingers graze the line where his leg becomes groin. You taste the saltiness of precum and consider letting him finish in your mouth, but that wouldn’t give you what you need. You retreat slightly, keeping your tongue on him, pressing it against the slit where the salty flavour is still leaking out, while you let one hand sweep under his balls, and a finger softly touch his hole.</p>
<p>“Pocket,” he gasps, and you look up, the head of his cock still resting on your lower lip. His eyes dart towards to the discarded pants. You reach for them with your unoccupied hand and find the lube in a side pocket. So maybe he did know what you called him for. Or maybe he was just hoping.</p>
<p>You generously coat your index and middle fingers before tossing the tube onto the bed, then cup his ass with the other hand, sucking his cock back into your mouth and gently inserting first one finger, then a second. When the muscles in his thigh begin to twitch, you pull both out, standing up and holding the back of his neck so you can kiss him with greater depth than ever before. He is easy to manoeuvre onto the bed and lies obediently on his back while you pick up the lube again and touch yourself for the first time, realising immediately how much you need to be inside him now. Pushing his legs apart, you lay down on top of him, kissing him hungrily while simultaneously trying to bend his body so you can find your way in.</p>
<p>He breaks the kiss by twisting his face away, his arms around your neck.</p>
<p>“Is easier if I turn over,” he explains breathlessly.</p>
<p>“No,” you growl, and it wasn’t supposed to come out that aggressively, but you can’t fuck him like that anymore. “I need to see you.”</p>
<p>He understands. You can see it in his face, and something almost lights up in his eyes. He wants this, too.</p>
<p>You shuffle back and lift his hips, in response he hooks a leg around you, opening himself up for you. For the first time you get to look him in the eye as you slowly ease your way inside him. His mouth is open slightly and his head tilts back. Once you are buried to the hilt you lean forward towards him, supporting your own weight on one hand. The angle is wrong for kissing, but you can both touch each other and that is enough. His bare skin is really there, under you and he has an expression of pure want, his fingers against your stomach, deliberately avoiding touching himself. The hand you were holding him in place with can be spared to see to his pleasure. You stroke gently, in time to your thrusts, realising that you can watch him climax this time. This man, one of earth’s most brilliant scientists, is all yours in this moment. You quicken the pace – no point dragging it out now. His breath is catching as his shoulders press back into the mattress and his hands go still against your abdomen, his eyes squeezing shut and brows drawing together. You don’t stop. His muscles pulse around you and you lengthen your thrusts, pulling almost the whole way out before delving back inside, feeling the full benefit of his climax along every last inch of your own cock, and then pulling him impossibly closer to finish explosively as deep as you can get. The waves of pleasure seem to continue for some time, only slowly ebbing away as you begin to calm your breathing.</p>
<p>As you slip out of him, you can lean forward and kiss him again. You try to ignore the look of bewilderment on his face. He isn’t a mind reader; he had no way of knowing that this time would be different. You just hope to god you’ve read him right.</p>
<p>You’re both sweaty and dripping with lube and semen, so you roll off and try to find the words to suggest a shower, but your throat feels raw and you already miss the feel of him. The moment it takes you to regain your composure is all it takes for him to misinterpret the situation and start gathering his clothes. If you let him go now then it was all for nothing: just another meaningless, animalistic fuck. You can’t; you just can’t.</p>
<p>“Wait!” You shake your head at him, and take the pile from his arms, tossing it back onto the otherwise clear floor. “Stay,” you command, although you had meant for it to come out as a suggestion. He smiles, but tries to hide it, as if embarrassed, and you wonder if he hasn’t been wanting more right from the start.</p>
<p>You set his glasses on the bedside table, then lead him to the shower where you proceed to wash each other. He’s yours now, and you intend to make good use of him, taking every opportunity to press your lips against his skin. When you are clean you realise the towel is on the floor in the other room, but it’s not cold, and you’re soon both dry enough to climb back into the bed.</p>
<p>And then he’s there: warm and alive and just <em>right there</em>. You feel the weight melt away from your shoulders and let yourself curl up around him, and god, for the first time since you arrived here you truly feel not alone. With your arms wrapped tightly around his midsection, and one leg entwined with his, you bury your face in his chest and feel safe enough to finally let go of all the tension. Every little thing that has upset or irked you, every responsibility, every casualty, every emotion you had to stuff into that dark space in your mind.</p>
<p>The tears roll first. Then the juddering breaths that seem to come from deep within your chest. And finally, the wracking sobs you’ve been holding back for so damn long.</p>
<p>If he’s shocked, he doesn’t let it show. He holds you firmly, his fingers gently stroke your hair, and you feel his lips on your head. You know he will stay as long as you need him, even if that is a very long time.</p>
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